It’s not a weakness on my part
that I can’t go where you’ve gone
It’s not a lack of moral integrity
that I cannot support your act of carving
My soul cries out for repair
I am bleeding out
And the draining of my lifeblood
does not seem to be enough
to make the soil fertile for you

Once again I must be separate
Once again I must grow my own garden
Gather my own treasures
Intentionally search them out from the rocky crevices
Wade through Mysteries
Allow a stream of tenderness to flow from my fingertips
And remember, remember
all the things that give me life
Even as I retain the awareness
that piece by piece
you are casting yours away